


call my name

by dozmuffinxc



Series: catch me as i fall [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Origin Story, These Idiots, ladies and their battle wagons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozmuffinxc/pseuds/dozmuffinxc
Summary: Lieutenant Hurley arrived at the garage with every intention of taking the Raven in, but that's not quite what happened. Companion piece and prequel to "catch me as i fall." I can't get enough of this pairing.





	call my name

It took weeks of tracking to discover the location of the Raven’s garage and another three days to summon up the courage to visit it in person. It wasn’t a matter of fear: Hurley was the best detective in the Goldcliff militia, and she was absolutely certain that the Raven would be caught completely unawares. But as Hurley rounded the final corner onto a grimy side-street that reeked of motor oil and rotting garbage, she felt an unexpected sheen of sweat on her forehead that had nothing to do with the unseasonable heat.

To her surprise, the door to the garage was open. Hurley tucked her lock-picking kit back into her tunic as she eyed the door-jamb: sure enough, it was ajar, and a series of metallic bangs from inside confirmed that the owner was at home. Hurley knew enough about the Raven by now to know that she worked alone: there would be no collateral damage if this encounter went sideways.

Easing into the room on silent feet, Hurley scanned the wide, open space in one practiced sweep. The interior was remarkably neat: shelves of tools to the right were flanked by two boarded up windows; a small cot in the corner with a folded, patchwork blanket looked as though it was never slept in; and the workstation with its simple wooden stool leaned against the opposite stacked with mismatched battle wagon parts in various states of disrepair.

To Hurley’s left was the source of the banging. A huge battle-wagon – the same wagon Hurley had watched the Raven race in just last week with its sleek façade marred only by a crater-like dent on the leeward side. Hurley remembered the rush of fear she had felt when that damage had been dealt and the heady rush of adrenaline when the Raven had corrected her steering wheel and revved her way to victory, leaving her opponent in the dust.

A figure was at work on the undercarriage of the battle wagon. It was impossible to see their face, but the flash of black hair and the rapid-fire beat of Hurley’s pulse confirmed it was the woman she sought. Now that it had come to it, though, she didn’t know how to proceed. Years of training flew out the window as she wavered in the doorway, her hands tingling with magic and her cheeks aflame.

“You could make yourself useful,” a voice said, muffled slightly by the bulk of the battle wagon.

“Excuse me?” Hurley sputtered. In every dream she had had of this moment, never had she considered such unaffected nonchalance from her quarry.

The Raven slid out from beneath the wagon and pulled herself up by the rear bumper.

“If you’re going to stand there,” she said, her voice rougher than Hurley remembered, “you could hand me that spanner. Or would you rather just stand there staring?”

Hurley bristled. Weeks of tracking, and this criminal was going to speak to her like a child caught out for mischief? 

“I’ll have you know—” she began, but what she would have the Raven know disappeared on the wings of a million fluttering butterflies in her gut when the other woman turned to look her in the eyes for the first time without the shield of her avian mask.

No training could have prepared Hurley for the Raven’s eyes. Copper flecked with gold, they pierced so deeply beneath her skin that Hurley wouldn’t have been surprised if they could have mapped the veins of ki that ran through her veins. Her skin was the color of almonds and her lips – gods, her lips were full and reminded Hurley of berries ripe in the summer sun. Despite her defensive stance and the scowl that she carefully arranged across her features, Hurley’s head was swimming and she was fairly certain the other woman knew it.

“I’m here to take you in, Raven,” Hurley spat, throwing the words at the Raven’s feet with a force she did not feel. _Do your job,_ she chanted silently, repeating the words in her head until they ran together into a staccato beat of _do, do, do, do, do._

“No, you aren’t,” the Raven replied, her hip cocked to one side and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Hurley repeated for the second time, blushing promptly at how ridiculous she sounded.

“If you were here to take me in,” the Raven said, setting down the greasy cloth she was currently using to wipe off her oil-spattered hands and walking the length of the garage to stand less than a yard away from the fuming detective, “you would have already done it. I know all about you, Lieutenant Hurley: you’re the best in your division, the pride of the Goldcliff militia; you’re talented in healing magic and your fighting skills are the talk of the town.

“No,” she said again, leaning down so that her long, black hair tickled Hurley’s chin and sent waves of some musky fragrance that Hurley couldn’t place, “if you were here to arrest me, I would already be in chains.”

Frozen in place and desperate to stall, Hurley returned the Raven’s stare and forced her voice to take on the sharp, no-nonsense tone she so often used on young recruits who needed intimidating.

“Why am I here, then,” she asked, daring the Raven to respond.

Before Hurley could draw another breath, the Raven had swooped down, dark hair billowing behind her like the wings of the bird whose name she had claimed, and snatched Hurley’s hand in her own. Long, grease-stained fingers slid up the halfling’s wrist and curled firmly at her pulse point.

“I saw you at the race,” the Raven said, her voice a low sing-song, “and I saw the way you watched the battle wagons. Your heart is racing just like it was then, isn’t it? Fighting crime just doesn’t thrill the way it used to. You’re looking for a challenge.”

Hurley yanked her hand away, but not before a vision, shocking in its clarity, imprinted itself on her mind: the Raven at the wheel of her battle-wagon, Hurley at her side, their heads thrown back to the wind and laughter trailing in their midst.

When Hurley didn’t respond, the Raven stood up and began walking back to her battle wagon, throwing a strand of hair over her shoulder dismissively.

“When you make up your mind, Lieutenant,” she said, already ducking beneath the battle wagon’s frame, “you know where to find me.”

*******************

It wasn’t a choice in the end.

Hurley returned to the garage the next day, and when she pushed the open door wide, she found a clean apron waiting on the workbench that was just her size and a pair of goggles with the straps already adjusted. Tugging them into place, she went to work at the Raven’s side and the two women worked in companionable silence for the better part of the afternoon.

The last rays of sunlight began to fade from the cracks in the boarded-up windows, and Hurley found herself rushing to make herself presentable before her shift. There would be no explaining herself to Captain Bane if she was found out. Hurley knew that associating with a known criminal – especially one that she herself had been tasked to bring to justice –would mean dismissal, but as certain as she was, she was just as sure that she would return to the garage the next day, and the next.

“Good night, then,” she called over her shoulder.

Hurley was almost out the door before the Raven spoke.

“Sloane,” she said. “My name is Sloane.”

**Author's Note:**

> No, I know nothing about cars -- er, "battle wagons -- and yes, the titles of these fics are all based on Evanescence songs. My inner middle schooler is so proud.


End file.
